Tuesday, December 30, 2008

My transsexual nurse

It was my turn, I guess. I've always played Nurse Nellie when David/Angela managed to have any of his or her variety of accidents. They ranged from falling off a ladder - once as David and once as Angela; two heart episodes, again one as each; many bangs, bruises, cuts and gashes. I've been the one with the hydrogene peroxide, gauze, ace bandages, neosporine et al. I've also been the one who insisted, "We're going to the hospital on this one."

Yesterday was a gorgeous day, and there was no rain in the forecast for at least two days. It seemed the right day to spray the "No-Vegetation-Forever" weed killer. Our RV parking area was overgrown, and the sprouting vegetation in our driveway was forcing cracks open in the asphalt. So, I got busy. What I didn't do was pay attention to where my head was. Yep, I gave it a solid clunk on the corner of one of the RV room extentions. I assured myself of no serious injuries, and then I made several rude remarks to the offending corner and about my own inattention. I was soon back to work, however, although well away from the RV. Ten minutes passed, and then I noticed something dropping from my nose and then off my chin. I blinked away a bit of dampness on an eyelid, and puzzled, I reached up to see what the heck was going on. My forehead was covered in blood, and it was rapidly dripping down my face. I headed for the woodworking shop where Angela was putting together her latest project for baby Brooke - a desk/toy box arrangement. She took one look at me, grabbed my arm and headed me toward the sink. Due to previous accidents of her own, all the necessities were readily available. After a thorough washing out, hydro-peroxide and etc, she applied pressure to the top of my head and marched me into the house for further aid.

I'm happy to report that, outside of a gash about 3/4" long on the top of my head, I'll survive. She wouldn't even let me go back outside. She picked up all my stuff, and then returned to make me a cup of tea and hand me my book. "You're in for the rest of the day," she said. See how lucky I am to have my own T nurse around. She continued to check up on me through the afternoon, touching up any oozing, administering gauze and refilling my tea. What more could a wounded, inattentive person ask for? Yep, this is another Best Thing About Being Married To A Transsexual.

1 comment:

Debbie D said...

This was a wonderful post. It confirms how my wife and I, a post op Transsexual, relate to the world. It also shows how much love can truely exsist in a transsexual relationship. I applaud your honesty and love as well as your willingness to share with the world. I hope that this post may help other spouses understand how special we, as trans women and men are. Hopefully this will help other couples stuggling with these issues cope and stay together.
Debbie Dunkle
VP PinkEssence